


Pieces

by agentcxrter



Series: SSFA Writing Challenge [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, slight Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcxrter/pseuds/agentcxrter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mosaics are made from broken pieces, but they're still works of art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces

Leonard McCoy is a doctor.

He's said this God knows how many times in the Medbay and on the bridge that, "Dammit, man, I'm a doctor, not a.." Not a torpedo technician, not a physicist, nothing. He's a damn doctor, and that's the only reason he's flying on this god forsaken disease ridden ship in space, of all places, for five years. It's by far the stupidest decision he's ever made.

But one of the things Leonard does pride himself on, however, is his ability to pick up on small details. It's one of the reasons why he's so skilled in the medical field - he can tell a limp from the minute the stupid Ensign walks into Medbay, and he can pick up on a fractured bone just from the slightest, quickest wince. So when the Captain comes onto the bridge 15 minutes late for his shift, naturally, Leo knows something's up. Despite his abilities, the damn kid was his best friend, like or not, and he knew the idiot like the back of his hand. But he was a doctor, mind you, not a damn mood ring, and he was simply noticing the captain's strange behavior purely out of medicinal purposes. He shrugs it off to Jim staying up to a God forsaken hour reading files again, until the lighting hits Jim's face in just the right way for a single split second, and Leo can see a lone outline of a poorly disguised tear track on his cheek. Okay, now he's concerned. He remembers that himself and Jim get off shift at the same time today - he'll talk to him then. Suddenly, a beep on his comm alerts him back to the present, and he's off to do an emergency surgery on an idiotic Ensign from engineering who fell off a three story ladder.

His day proved long and weary after that, with two nasty chemical burns courtesy of the Science department, (which Spock looks suspiciously smug about, the bastard) and a red shirt who somehow managed to get a part of the machinery stuck in his hand. Running a hand through his hair, he was about to approach his quarters, when he passes a familiar door. Shit. He'd forgotten all about his plan to go talk to Jim. Sighing, he turns around in his tracks and approaches his best friend's door, raising his hand to knock, (because Leonard McCoy wasn't about paging the compute system. Nope. He was a doctor, not a security system. Jesus.) when he heard an all too familiar sound coming from it. A sound that sounded distinctly like a sob. Shit.

"Jim?" Leonard called out, forgetting the knock entirely, now overtaken by his concern. "Wanna let me in, kid?"

He stood there for a few moments before the doorknob turned and a bleary eyed, tearstained Jim opened the door, and gesturing for him to come in.

"Heya Bones," Jim said softly, in a toke that was loud enough for Leo to hear him, but to also not allow his voice to crack. "What's up?"

"I should ask you the same thing, kid," Bones said, in a much gentler tone than he's expected he'd use. "You've been pretty off all day...what's the matter?"

Jim suddenly got flustered, and began wringing his hands together. "I-it's nothing, really, Bones, you shouldn't really worry about me, I'm fine."

"The hell you are," Bones scoffed. "You're sweating, you're fidgeting, your eyes are darting around. You forget I'm a doctor, kid, not an idiot who doesn't know when his best friend is upset."

Jim took a deep, shuddering breath as he sat on the corner of the king sized bed that sat in the middle of the room. "Promise you won't tell anyone...?" he whispered in such a defeated way; the way the words rolled off his tongue were each like a thousand jabs at his heart.

"I promise, kid," he whispered, taking a seat beside him. "I promise."

"It's just - it's just..." Jim started, looking down at the floor like the Mona Lisa herself, in the flesh, was ingrained into the carpet. "Today's the anniversary of Tarsus."

Tarsus. Oh god, he should have known.

He'd known that Jim had survived the massacre, and he knew the kid was pretty messed up by it, but hey, who wouldn't? Especially a thirteen year old kid who took charge over 15 kids for over a year, and was later captured, starved, tortured, and nearly beaten to death? That was enough to mess anyone up. Plus add in the factor of an absent mother, a nearly always alcoholic stepfather who was happy with his fists, and a brother who ran off and made no attempt to contact or protect you, and you had your classic case of nut job. But this was Jim Kirk, not a nut job. The kid who didn't believe in no-win scenarios, had aptitude levels were off the charts, and who had saved the entire galaxy more than once. And as the dim light from the 40% lighting in the room hits across his face, Leonard comes to the realization that Jim Kirk is a little bit more than the son of a Federation hero, a genius level repeat offender, and Starfleet's golden boy. No, to him, Jim Kirk is like a mosaic: the kind that hangs on the farthest wall in the gallery; everyone forgets it's even there. The one that everyone overlooks, dismisses, and wonders how the hell something like that got into a place like this. From far away, you admire the beauty and then forget about it, but if you get close, you see the cracks, and the pieces that don't really belong together, and something about it takes your breath away. The colors that shouldn't mix somehow do, and it is beautifully shattered to come together as something that could have not need been achieved without once having been broken. And you leave feeling breathless, and wondering how a piece of such beautiful art could have been achieved by someone who walked the same ground as you, at one point, and breathed the air, and laughed and maye shared some ingenious thoughts with the likes of you. That's what he is. Jim Kirk is fragile, a piece of wondrous, fine art, but at the same time, he's strong. Fiercely protective of the ones he loves, and the most brilliant mind, but at the same time, so misunderstood, so broken, and yet, so...loved.

"..Bones?" Jim asks quietly, and Leo remembers where he is, and he forces himself back down to reality. Oh god, he must have been staring like an idiot; he must have looked like a fucking creep. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, kid, I'm fine," Bones says. and it's his turn to stare at the carpet. "...Sorry, I shouldn't have trailed off like that, especially when you were talking about something so important, Jesus Christ, I'm a terrible frie-"

"Bones, it's fine!" Jim seamlessly interrupts and Bones is rewarded with soft, light laughter coming from Jim's chest, and the look of pure adoration in his eyes tells Leo that he didn't need to explain his revelation to Jim, because he already knew. "You just coming, and knowing you cared - that was enough." He reached out and took Leonard's hand and held it for a moment, and Leo turned his gaze down to their joined hands.

 

"You're enough."


End file.
